


Tradition

by MagicMarker



Series: October 2014 Daily Writing Challenge [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Bunker Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Drunken cuddling, Drunkenness, Gen, Halloween, Hocus Pocus - Freeform, Jack-o'-lanterns, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Pumpkin Carving Contests, Pumpkins, i literally cannot write dean or charlie without swears, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 14:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2431799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicMarker/pseuds/MagicMarker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the October Daily Writing Challenge.</p><p>Day 7: Traditions</p><p>While Halloween has snuck up on the Winchesters, Charlie Bradbury is prepared with jungle juice, Hocus Pocus, and a jack-o-lantern carving contest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tradition

_Pumpkin Carving Contest tmrw nite- BYOP.  I’ll provide booze & Hocus Pocus. B there or b laaaaaame._ 

“Did you get the same text from Charlie?” Sam asked from the other side of the library.

“Yeah,” Dean answered absently.  “Kind of out of the blue, don’t you think?”

“Dean.  It’s October 20th.  It’s actually kind of about that time.”

He flicked his eyes down to the bottom right corner of the laptop screen.  “Well.  I’ll be damned.”  Dean pushed back his chair and kicked his feet up onto the desk.  “I mean, I don’t know where she thinks she’s having this shindig.  I’m not about to drive to… wherever it is she landed after Oz.  Hold on, let me ask her.”

**So where exactly are you holding this party, Charlie?**

Ba-Ding!   _Bunker.  Duh.  See u in 12 hrs! <3_

“Well?”  Sam came around the corner of a bookshelf, arms full of dusty yellowed pages.

Dean shrugged.  “I guess she’s coming here.  Your turn to clean the bathroom.”

 

\----

 

Sam opened the door and found his arms immediately filled with bottles of liquor.  “Holy shit, Charlie, how many people did you invite to this thing?  The whole thing about a _secret bunker_ is that it’s supposed to be **_secret._** ” 

“Puh-leez,” Charlie scoffed, following Sam back into the house.  She had about six reusable grocery bags hanging off her arms and a pumpkin in her hands.  “It’s just going to be you, Dean, Cas, and Kevin. And me, obvs.  But I know you guys, and I know myself.  And I know that we’re going to need, like, gallons.  Now come on, Moose, help me prep.  No, not the kitchen.  We gotta be able to watch only _the_ most important Halloween movie _ever made._  And drink.”  Sam quirked an eyebrow.  “That’s right Sam,” Charlie nodded, “Drunken triple-tasking.”

They moved into the living room and started pushing furniture around.  “I figure we can move the table from the kitchen in here, like behind the couch or something, and then we can all work and drink and see the movie from here.  But don’t worry -- I came prepared.”  She pulled a large plastic dropcloth out of one of the grocery bags.  “I don’t want to have to do much clean-up either.” 

“So, Charlie,” Dean asked from the doorway, “how come you’re so… _intense_ about this?”

 Charlie sighed.  “Will you two help get that table in here?  I’ll put the plastic down.”  

 “Nice try, Charlie,” Dean teased, but he went to the kitchen all the same.  The brothers pushed and twisted and pulled the kitchen table around the twisting hallways, banging knuckles and stubbing toes all the way.

 When they had the table where it belonged, Sam added, “You don’t have to tell us why, or anything, but this kind of a weird tradition.”

 Charlie dropped heavily onto the couch.  “Basically, before my mom got sick, we would always watch Hocus Pocus while we carved pumpkins, every single year, before Halloween.  Then… I tried to keep it up, you know, with the friends I’d made when I worked at Roman’s.”  She shuddered as the memory of the Leviathan surfaced.  She pushed it back down and took a deep breath.  “Worst job ever, amirite?”

 Sam huffed and nodded with a weak smile.  “You can say that again.”

 With a little laugh, she continued, “I mean, the other nerds I met there were great, and some of them still do the Moondoor LARP with me every year… Anyway.  I had to move after that, _obviously,_ and now, well, I’ve got this new family!  So you are going to have to pick up a Halloween tradition that involves more booze and fewer witches.”

 “Sounds perfect to me!” Dean grinned.  “So where’s that booze at?”

 

\----

 

After Kevin arrived they brought all the pumpkins, knives, cups, and pitchers of boozy goodness into the living room.  “Okay, nerds,” Charlie called with a clap of her hands.  “Here are the rules of the game.  As soon as I hit ‘Play’ on Hocus Pocus, the game begins.  You have to drink every times someone says ‘Virgin’, every time someone calls the Sanderson Sisters ugly or old or whatever, every time Binx is a sassy muthafucka, any time Billy loses a body part, and any time Sarah Jessica Parker comes onto someone. Neighing is optional.”

 “Holy shit, Charlie, you aren’t fuckin’ around,” Kevin complained, looking at his cup.  “This is like almost entirely liquor!”

 “ _AND,”_ Charlie raised her voice over his complaints, “You finish your drink when Binx makes you want to cry.”

 Cas squinted at the cup in his hand.  “We are to be drinking and wielding sharp instruments?”

 “Honestly, it’s as if you have no idea how to have fun.  Now remember, get that pumpkin carved, and the best one wins!”

 “Wins what?” Sam asked.

 “One, two, THREE!”  Charlie slammed her finger down on the remote with one hand and stabbed into her pumpkin with the other.  

 Kevin picked up a sharpie.  “So what are we going for?  Scariest?  Most artistic?”

 “I dunno, man,” Dean teased, “You’ve faced down the King of fuckin’ Hell, Sam and I have literally been there… Not a whole lot is gonna scare any of us.”

 Castiel removed the top from his pumpkin and chose a big metal spoon to dig the flesh and seeds out.  “We could take a vote.”  His brow furrowed, eyes squinting at the inside of the gourd as he scraped the sides.

 Sam scoffed, “That would never work.  Dean and Kevin and Charlie would all vote for themselves regardless.”  He grabbed another sharpie and started sketching.

 “Ex-CUSE me??” Charlie gasped, affronted.  She placed a pumpkin-gut-covered hand over her heart. “I am offended.  I would only ever choose the jack-o-lantern of highest quality and artist-itude.  Oh – old Sandersons. Take a swig.”

 Everyone grabbed their cup and drank. Kevin sputtered and Sam grimaced.  Cas remained stone-faced as ever, picking up a knife and making the first incision on the side of the gourd.

 By the time the Sanderson sisters had put a spell on everyone, Dean and Charlie were rosy-cheeked with intoxication.  “Hey Sammy!” Dean called.

 Sam turned just in time to catch a face full of slippery, stringy pumpkin guts.  “Oh fuck no. Fuh-huh-huhck no.” He reached over and slung a hand-full of seeds and slime towards Dean.

 “NOPE.  Toooooo drunk.”  Kevin put his knife down and swiped his hands on his pants, then flopped over the arm of a recliner to just lie there, leg hanging off one side, face only vaguely in the direction of the television.

 Charlie squealed and joined in the fight, slipping behind Dean to gather enough in her hands that she could then mash into his scalp.  “Take that, nerd!”

 Cas stepped deftly out of the way of Sam’s poorly-aimed attack, and continued working.  Soon, everyone had worn themselves out and the guts-slinging ceased. Despite best efforts, no one remained unscathed.  Dean, Sam and Charlie were absolutely covered, but both Cas and Kevin also had bits sticking everywhere. 

 “Oh man.  I’m going to go take a shower, I am not drunk enough for this anymore,” Sam announced, slicking the sticky goo off his arms as well as he could.

 “Same dude, this is nasty.”  Charlie grimaced as she stripped off her sweatshirt.  “You guys are going to have to let me do some laundry.”

 Dean just took another huge gulp of Charlie’s jungle juice and flopped down on the couch.  “I don’t know about you guys, but that Binx guy is _hilarious._   I’m gonna finish the movie.”  A few moments later Cas sat down on the other end of the couch.  “Hey man, you finissshhhd or what?” Dean slurred.

 “Yes,” Cas answered simply, taking a drink as the cat delivered another one-liner. 

 “Cool,” Dean replied.  He leaned towards the center of the couch ever so slowly, not quite in control of his body at this point.  As his eyes started drooping so did his shoulder, until finally his pumpkin-covered head was laying on Cas’ lap.

 Cas heard the water stop running, and a few minutes later Charlie entered with her hair wrapped in one of the plush white towels the bunker came stocked with.  “D’awwwwww,” she whispered.  “You can’t even move to turn the TV off, how cute.”

 “Yes, the movie ended about 10 minutes ago,” Cas admitted.  “But Dean seems very comfortable.”

 “So do you,” Charlie winked.

 Cas said nothing, but a small smile flitted across his features.  He shrugged, palms up.

 “Have a good night, Cas.  Make sure he drinks some water.”

 “Okay, you too.”

 Charlie left them then, and Kevin too, as he was slung across the chair like he’d been thrown there.  She padded softly through the hallways of the bunker, turning off the lights as she went.  As she slipped into an unused room, she let her hair out of the towel and did a little happy dance.  She’d sleep well tonight after a job well done.

 

\----

 

The morning came and with it, light-sensitivity headaches. Sam and Charlie had the benefit of bedrooms with curtains, but the other three were not so lucky.  Kevin groaned and shifted as the light danced across his eyelids.  How the secret bunker managed to have so much _morning_ defied explanation.

A hangover, however fierce, could not dull Dean’s hunter’s senses, though, and Kevin’s protests woke him.  He licked his lips, opened and closed his mouth a few times.  Dean hadn’t seen cotton-mouth this bad since his teenage years.  He’s usually so good at drinking water along with his booze.  He stretched his arms above his head to try to get the kinks out, and smacked Cas in the face.  Dean instantly froze, and luckily Cas just sighed and turned away, removing his arm from over Dean’s shoulder and waist.

This gave Dean a little time to process.  What.  The.  Fuck.  He was lying on Cas’s lap.  He and Cas slept together on the couch.  _They had cuddled._   More importantly, _who had seen????_

He carefully rose from the couch in search of some aspirin and about fifty gallons of water to wash it down with.  Walking past the pumpkin murder scene, he groaned.  Oh yeah, the Pumpkin Guts War of 2014.  This was going to be a bitch to clean up.  And what had they actually gotten out of it?  Dean’s jack-o-lantern wasn’t finished.  Kevin had passed out before his pumpkin was even cleaned out.  But that one on the end…

Dean picked it up and turned it around.  He knew it must be Cas’s pumpkin.  First off, it was actually finished.  And it was like, artistic and shit, not just a bunch of triangles punched through the rind.  Cas had scraped off the orange layer in some places, really dug into the pumpkin in others.  It was two figures, sitting on the edge of a dock.  Dean recognized it instantly.  It was his dream, the one Cas would visit him in sometimes, when he needed to communicate something secretly.  If Dean was being entirely honest, they didn’t always talk business.  And the scene on the pumpkin really didn’t look like one of those business meetings. 

Dean’s eyes prickled and he coughed as quietly as he could.  Cas rolled over and groaned.  “Ugh, what time is it?”

“Ssh, Cas, just sit tight.  I’ll getchya some aspirin and some water.”  He coughed a little again and put the pumpkin down reverently, then hustled out of the room.  Holy shit.

When he returned, Cas was sitting upright, frowning at the mess on the floor.  He took the aspirin and washed it down, then handed the glass back to Dean.

“Come on, Cas, you gotta drink the water, you’ll feel a lot better.” 

“No, Dean, I’m not hung-over.  My neck is just sore from sleeping on the couch.”  Cas shook his head and waved off the glass. 

“Cas…” Dean murmured as he sat down beside him.  “Your pumpkin… it’s pretty awesome.”

“I thought that since pumpkin carving was Charlie’s tradition, I should incorporate the first tradition I had.  With you.”

“Shit, Cas…” Dean nudged him with his shoulder, ducking his head to hide the blush that bloomed up his neck.  He let out a deep breath and stood up suddenly.  “Let’s make a nice greasy breakfast for everyone.  Come on, I’ll teach you how to fry bacon.” 

Kevin rolled his eyes from the recliner, having heard the whole damn thing.  Ew.

 

 


End file.
